


In the morning light.

by Lady_Talla_Doe



Series: Battle Creek Unrelated [1]
Category: Battle Creek (TV)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, First Kiss, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Morning After, Sexual Tension, but not technically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-01
Updated: 2015-05-01
Packaged: 2018-03-26 15:12:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3855271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Talla_Doe/pseuds/Lady_Talla_Doe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Milt and Russ might have fallen into bed together, but what about the next morning? A night of wild passion is all well and good with alcohol to help you along, but in the light of day, this can get a bit awkward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the morning light.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Casey_Wolfe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Casey_Wolfe/gifts).



> So, just a bit of silliness. A fill from the kink meme over on LJ.
> 
> Its late and I didn't edit, so let me know if you see something ( like the word 'fridge' it's hooked into my auto correct somewhere and I haven't ferreted it out yet.)
> 
> present for Casey_Wolfe :3 have some silly angsty boys

* * *

* * *

 

Milt woke slowly, awareness seeping back into his limbs with a relaxed sluggishness he only really associated with sex.

Well, sex, _and_ bleeding out, but the arm thrown around easily around his waist and the warm breath puffing against his neck spoke strongly towards the former. The person sprawled half against him – male, definitely male- had a pretty decent grip on him, fingers curled around Milt’s hip – squeezed between his skin and the mattress.

It felt good to wake up with someone, to soak in their heat and know he had the day off. That he could take his time and soak in the warmth of his bed-partner until the other man woke. Maybe convince him to stay for breakfast, and if things weren’t too awkward, enjoy another round of … whatever the hell they’d done. He’d remember after coffee. It must have been good, because there was an ache on the shoulder his mystery man was breathing on that felt suspiciously like teeth marks.

Milt frowned.

He wasn’t much for bite-play. Or marking of any kind, not so close to his collar. Too high of a chance it might show at work. He rolled the shoulder carefully, listening to the huff of annoyed breath from his companion, felt the scrape of facial hair along his neck. Memory ghosted behind his eyes, sensation sliding down his limbs, making his pulse thump heavy.

 _His mouth against that throat, halting all those angry words until they were just one long groan. His wrists, caught in Milt’s hands, keeping his hands away, contained, keeping_ him _contained. Surprise, hot and bright, when he’d given in so easily, folding against him and tilting his head up. Just letting Milt mark him up. Groaning while he did._

_Thinking that that was a sound he needed to hear again._

_Walking him back until they hit a wall, and sparing one moment- just one- to look, to ask- his burning, pissed off glare said everything. Their mouthed had collided in a knock of teeth that was too much bite, just a bit harsh, but Milt’s hand was in Russ’ hair and he’d let one wrist go, and Russ had his hand wrapped firm around the back of Milt’s neck, keeping him there, keeping him close._

“Oh _fuck_ ,” Milt whispered softly, but with a lot of feeling, looking over his shoulder at the sleeping face of Russ Agnew. Russ, still oblivious, continued to mash his night-scruff into Milt’s naked skin, and stayed sprawled over the other half of his bed.

***

The smell of bacon woke him. It was a slow sort of wake- a grudging reluctance of a thing, his sleeping mind fighting against his hindbrain. Eventually, the smell of meat cooking won out, and Russ cracked his eyes open.

To not his bedroom. And definitely not his bed. Which explained the sounds of sounds of breakfast being made by someone who wasn’t him in his not-kitchen.

Russ rolled over slowly, folding an arm across his stomach over the covers, and threw the other over the empty half of the bed.

“Alright.” He blew out a breath through his nose, and looked slowly around the room, taking in the cookie cutter, yet high quality furniture. No real personality in it, yet expensive enough to count as its own tasteful decorating scheme – if a bit fucking bland. The only real colour was the splash of blue thrown over a chair in the corner.

 _Blue-_ Russ sat up, shoving off the covers, and slid out of bed. The floor was warm under his bare feet, like it was heated, and it distracted him for a moment- but he shook it off, padding over to the vivid colour amid all the plain neutrals.

He shook his head, picking up the blue suit jacket like it might burn him. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” He _didn’t-_ _Fuck._

But the ache in his spine spoke to very good, if maybe too vigorous, sex. And this was Milt’s suit. As stubborn and pigheaded as Russ could be, it was hard to explain waking up naked in Milt’s bed.

Russ sat down slowly, covering his face to smother a groan.

***

Bacon, waffles, coffee, a smoothie, and fresh pressed juice. Aside from learning that one Russ Agnew could most likely sleep through the beginning of the end of the world, Milt was running out of things to cook, and out of reasons not to wake Russ. Sooner or later, he was going to have to go in there, and confront the fact that he’d slept with his partner.

He mouth pulled down at the corners at the thought, before he ironed it blank again, plucking the bacon from its shed grease, and depositing it on a small mountain of paper towels. They’d been drunk enough the night before, but he could still feel Russ underneath him- the surge of his body, the claw of his fingernails as he demanded _more_ , and when Milt had given it to him, when he’d thrust into his body hard enough to move him up the bed, to shake the frame and knock soft breathes from Russ’s lungs with every thrust- Russ had _bit_ him. Hard enough to bruise, mark.

Milt shifted, sighing in frustration. Coffee had helped. So had two hours of being up and thinking on it. It had wound him tighter then a spring, but he remembered, for the most part. It was childish, perhaps, to sit outside and hope Russell would come to him. But every time Milt started towards the door, he was assaulted with vivid images of what they’d done, and he’d been forced to retreat. Finally, he’d just called it quits. Russ would come out when he was ready, until then, Milt would chop, slice, cook, mix, or juice every remaining thing in his kitchen.

Just as he resolved himself to a truly telling amount of food, the soft scuff of bare feet against the hardwood brought his head up. Eyes wide, he stared at Russ.

Russ, who had his chin tucked like he was expecting a fight, was wearing a pair of Milt’s sweats. They were rolled up at the ankle, and the sweater was too long, bunching slightly at his wrists, but it _worked_.

On Milt, that was. It worked like a gut punch, and as he stared Russ glared back, heat crawling up the shorter officer’s neck in a wave of red. Milt’s lips twitched in a smile, and he smoothed a hand over his mouth quickly, looking away.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty. I thought you’d crawled out the window.”

“Don’t be a dumbass, it’s the third floor.” Russ shot back, settling carefully on the opposite side of the breakfast bar. He looked like an ill-cared for long furred cat, eyes too bright for just waking up, hair on end, and ready to take a chunk out of Milt if he moved wrong. So Milt set about fixing a plate for him, passing it over wordlessly.

He watched Russell poke his food around the plate for several minutes before sighing, pushing it away carefully. The tired sag was so out of character, and the way he dragged his hands over his face.

“Did we..?” He did some funny back and forth gesture, but Milt got it well enough.

“Yes, Russ, we had drunk sex. From what I remember it was rather… I don’t know a polite word for it.” It was embarrassing, but he could feel his face growing warm. Politely talking about how at one point he lifted Russ up and slammed his back against the wall – over by the foyer, where a picture was just barely holding onto its nail. He should probably mention to Russ that he had a hickey on the underside of his chin, a small, blood-dark mark that Milt had worried into existence with his teeth while Russ had his head thrown back against the wall, cussing the air blue and panting his name.

“You really don’t remember?” Russ shook his head, poking at the cold bacon on his plate.

“It’ll come back,” He reassured quickly. “It’s normal for me. I had a lot to drink before you arrived.”

“You bit me,” Milt blurted, scrunching up his face the next second. “Ugh, I mean. I … I bit you too. You have a, a mark, um, under your jaw. Here,” he pointed at himself, and Russ covered his throat in surprise. Milt shook his head, clearing his throat. “No, it’s- it’s here,” He hesitated for a moment, then reached across the breakfast bar and took Russ’s hand, moving it to cover the small bruise. Their fingers brushed against the hollow of his throat, and Milt felt Russell’s heartbeat ratchet up, thumping hard against their fingertips.

Their eyes met.

Milt hesitated, again, the shifted forward, bracing his free hand among the waffles and dishes, and slid his hand to cup the back of Russell’s head. The agent leaned all the way in, right over the dirty dishes, until he was nose to nose with the cop, their breath puffin against each other’s mouths. He slid his thumb slowly down the line of Russ’s neck, watching him shiver from under his lashes.

“Russ, can I kiss you?’ Milt murmured against his skin.

“What do you think?” But the sharpness was missing, broken a breathiness. Milt could practically taste his heartbeat.

“I think you need to answer,” He would hold this as long as he had to, if it meant turning on Russell Agnew and twisting the man into so many knots. Russ squirmed in his seat, gritting his teeth, the grabbed Milt by the front of his shirt.

He leaned in fast, meeting Russ’s mouth in a devouring kiss, scrapping his nails along his scalp to hold him close, and half dragged him out of his chair. In between squirming free of the breakfast bar, and being herded back towards the bedroom, Milt had a pang of regret for making so much food.


End file.
